ImPerceptibility

Posts Tagged ‘walk’

I took that long walk today. The one that starts out on a wide gravel road then it gets smaller and smaller. It becomes nothing more than a space between trees. Dark and foreboding full of imagined snakes and real spiders, vine covered trees, and shadows. All the things that books and movie use to foreshadow doom. I was scared to walk there without you but it didn’t stop me.

I came to the train tracks, then a tunnel entrance covered with years worth of weeds. Honey suckle, poison ivy, and morning glories. Many years ago we decided it might be a metaphor for life. God, we were trashed that day! The vines were dormant and leafless for the winter but I knew they would be back in a few months and I knew I wouldn’t have the courage to cross them when they blossomed. I stood there until I felt I would loose my nerve, then I made myself continue on.

I pushed through brush, ducked under branches and crawled over fallen trees. My walk was coming to an end and each step was just a little slower than the last. Just past the sharp turn. I just had to make it past there.

I closed my eyes and stepped into the clearing. When I opened them it was like I remembered – but different. It wasn’t quite the same. I scanned the large gaping holes where men had gouged the gravel and sand from the earth. When they had taken everything they wanted they left it unattended, ugly and broken, alone to fend for itself. We loved that ugly place. We loved it because it was ours. No one else ever went there.

All these years later and the wounds were starting to heal. Grass and trees have grown. Sharp edges were softer. The water a little less stagnant. The light was filtered by the trees and the harshness was giving way to a aged softness. I wondered for a minute if it was a metaphor for life and I wasn’t even trashed.

No one but you and me would know why I went there. Most days I think we are the only ones that would even understand. Maybe the only people that would even care. I stayed for a long time but the time I spent didn’t make up for the time I had been away. When it was time for me to go I left behind my tears, markings from a paint stick, and a mostly full bottle of strawberry wine.

The walk back was shorter than I’d though it would be.

It must have been about 10 years ago. It was before I had a youngest but I remember little white baby shoes in a well-worn lap. They were both sitting comfortably in a wheel chair and both were excited because chocolate pudding was on the dinner menu. I was listening to them talking and giggling when I saw him.

He was shuffling slowly, almost painfully towards me and he was saying something. His voice was gruff, barely a whisper. He stopped in front of me and spoke to me but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Then he held out his arm for me to take. I told him I’d love to take a walk with him.

We walked around the common room and he talked to me. I don’t know what he said. It sounded melodic and rhythmic. I wasn’t sure if he was singing a song or reciting poetry. I suppose it’s all the same. After a few minutes he started to get confused and agitated and the nurse came to take him back to his room.

I leaned in and kissed him on his cheek, then I told him I loved him. His eyes started to sparkle and for a second or two I thought he was young again. I couldn’t watch as the nurse walked him back down the hall. I just wanted to remember that look in his eyes. And I did.

I’d never seen that man before but when I said I love you, I meant it. I’ve never seen him since, but when I think of him I still love him. I don’t understand how things like that work. For some reason I think he did.